Sealing Fate
by moviefanatic17
Summary: Sometimes chance meetings mean more than you think...how Mac and Stella mighta met...AU oneshot


**_Hey, I'm back. This idea really just came to me out of the blue, I have no idea where from or what. It's a little AU but I tried not to stray from their real historys. No spoilers_**

**_I do not own CSI:NY (although I did just get the last 2 sets for christmas, does that count?)_**

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It was early 1985, and I was an eighteen year old girl, fresh out of St. Basils and a legal adult in the big city of New York. No more bouncing around foster homes, no more rotting away in the orphanage. I was finally on my own, but it wasn't a new feeling. I'd pretty much been on my own the past eighteen years.

I can faintly remember the conflict surrounding The Gulf War in that time, and that a lot of people weren't sure what was going on. As a very young woman, I can honestly tell you that I didn't care much. I was more worried about what I was going to do with my life than what was going on thousands of miles away. Although I enjoyed it greatly and was pretty good, I knew I couldn't be a dancer forever, so I decided to go to a real college. I had applied to NYU, but had only applied with an undecided major. The counselors at my high school weren't very helpful, so I was on my own. I guess I figured I had plenty of time to decide once I was in school, but even then I was worried. Thinking back, my final choice came with that one chance meeting in Central Park.

I remember the day even now, and if I knew that it would end up changing my life forever, I'd have paid even better attention. It was Fleet Week for the Navy and Marine Corps, so there were a lot of sailors and soldiers running all over the city. For that week and a half, they were almost as common to see as taxi cabs.

I remember walking back to my small, dingy apartment after a day at the dance studio. It was one of my last and I had stalled leaving, which left me walking home later than usual. The sun was nearly down, but still cast long shadows as I made my way though the park, hearing the sounds of the Fleet Week festivities. The path I was walking was nearly empty, and I didn't think anything of it until a man walked out of nowhere.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?"

His voice was as greasy as his appearance, and he looked the part of your typical scum. His kind were far too abundant for my liking, but I knew how to handle myself. I'd grown up in this city and knew the type. Though that still didn't stop my pulse from getting faster or my muscles from tensing.

"Leave me alone," I said, adopting my strongest voice.

He stood in the middle of the path and I tried to walk past. It was only after he roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me back that I began to get really nervous.

"I said, what are you doing here?" he said again, putting his face near mine and giving me a whiff of his alcohol drenched breath. I tried to get out of his grip, when another voice came along in the dark.

"I think she told you to leave her alone," a deep, strong voice said. The sound sent a chill down my spine, but I wasn't afraid. The guy holding me, on the other hand, must have really been a coward because he let go of me and I got out of there, not bothering to look back at either of them.

Being put into situations that make me vulnerable has never been my kind of thing. Even then, when I was just a young dancer, the feeling made me uncomfortable. And after being forced into the part of 'damsel in distress', I was pissed. The anger built as I continued home, thankfully getting under the dim light of lamps. Maybe that was why I didn't realize someone was following me until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Shook up from the encounter just moments ago, I did the only logical thing. I balled my fist and spun around quickly, making contact with something hard. My pursuer stumbled back a bit, raising a hand to his eye. I was shocked that I had made contact, but that was nothing compared to the shock at what I had hit. This man was not wearing a tattered brown coat, but a crisp, military uniform.

Oh, my God. I hit a _Marine. _

In that instant, I felt more afraid than I had all night. Then he spoke, and my fear was replaced by sympathy.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, ma'am." I recognized his voice as the same that had scared the creep off from me. _Way to go, Stella. You hit the guy who kept you from getting mugged, or worse, raped. _

He rubbed at where I'd hit him and when he moved his hand, I was captured by a pair of stunning eyes. They were deep blue, like the deepest part of the ocean, and I couldn't help but stare. He chuckled lightly, which reminded me to stop staring like a crazy fan girl. "You pack a hell of a punch, ma'am," he said without even the slightest amount of anger, rubbing his eye again.

I smiled apologetically, not exactly knowing what to do. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were...someone else."

"It's okay. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that, ma'am. Not after..." he trailed off, not needing to finish.

"Thanks for that," I managed, falling into a silence that was oddly comfortable for having just met this man. Once again, I took the opportunity to take in his appearance. He was slightly taller than me, and older too. His dark hair was cut neatly, military style, and tucked under a Marine cover, which he took off and put under his arm. His tan uniform shirt fit snugly on his muscular frame, and his blue pants were neatly in line.

"Ma'am, could I walk you home?"

I don't know why I nodded as quickly as I did, but something made me do it. Maybe it was someone actually caring about me, or maybe it was because I felt bad for hitting him, but I seemed to trust him almost immediately, and that was something completely new for me.

We started back down the path, and once again fell into comfortable silence. "Well, if we're going to be walking together, you better stop with the ma'am. It's Stella," I told him, and he repeated my name, saying it differently than I'd ever heard it. It was slow, almost drawling, and I wanted to hear it from him again. Shaking my head, I remembered that I didn't know his. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Mac Taylor," he said, and I had to laugh as his arm twitched in a snuffed attempt to salute. He probably hadn't introduced himself to a civilian in a long time. "Force of habit," he said, and I couldn't blame his reaction. I was a creature of habit myself.

"So, do you always make a habit of saving people, Lieutenant Mac Taylor?" I asked, and he smiled at me. His smile was contagious, and I felt my own get bigger.

---

A few hours later found me and my new found acquaintance sitting in a corner diner outside my apartment, sharing stories over coffee, and in my case, tea. In the time we'd sat at the diner, I felt like he knew my entire story, while I only knew bits of his. But the bits I'd been given had made up for their lack of number. I think it was, and always has been one of the things that draws me to him. Makes me want to see what makes him tick. He was quiet and mysterious, but moved with confidence.

"So, Mac, what do you have planned after the military?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I'm not really sure. I'll see how long I can last over there, then figure it out when I come back. Probably head back to Chicago for a while," he said, and I was reminded again that we were dealing with a war. It was so strange to think that the man I'd spent an evening just talking to could end up dead in a month. I didn't _want_ to think of it.

"How about you?"

"I'm not really sure," I replied honestly. "I'm a dancer at heart, but I know that won't carry me far. Besides, I'd like something challenging, something that's different everyday."

He seemed to think for a moment. "Have you ever thought of joining the police department?" I snorted as images of Mahoney and Tackleberry popped into my head, along with crazy Lassard.

"What made you think of that?" I ask incredulously, and he shrugs, taking another swig of his coffee.

"You seem like you're tough enough for the job. It's not so bad, I've had to be on patrol with the MP's a few times," he says, adding another bit to my file on one Mac Taylor. "Besides, you mentioned earlier that you looked into criminology," he added, and I was surprised he'd been listening so well.

"Ah, I don't know," I answered, looking down at my cup. "The counselors at the school kind of shot that idea down pretty quick," I stated dejectedly.

"I have faith in you, Stella Bonasera," he said quietly, forcing my eyes back to his. I smiled shyly and looked back down.

Mac Taylor really was something else. He made me feel as if I were special, not just another girl without a chance or the ambition to do any better than what she'd been dealt. I even told him about my less than typical childhood, and he didn't pity me, or treat me different. And I liked that. I glanced at my watch, wishing the time would stand still and I could sit and talk to this man forever. But as luck would have it, I had another meeting with NYU in the morning. And this time I would have something to put on that line on the application.

As if reading my mind, he put a couple of bills down on the table and stood, offering me a hand. "I think we should probably get you home. I've wasted enough of your time," he said, and I took his hand, trying to ignore the bolt of pure electricity that his simple touch sent down my arm.

"I punched you in the face, I think I should have covered the bill," I said, looking at the blackish bruise that was steadily growing bigger around his eye as we stopped in front of the stairs to my apartment.

He shrugged and smiled that infectious smile. "I'll have an interesting story to tell the guys." I smiled, and looked up at the stairs, wanting to delay this goodbye as long as possible.

"How long are you in town?" I asked, hoping that he'd say a week. But fate never works the way you want it to.

"I ship out tomorrow."

"Well then, I guess this is goodbye, Mac Taylor," I whispered, trying to keep the lump out of my throat. It was so strange to me that this guy, this Marine, had this kind of affect on my after only an hour.

"Goodnight, Stella Bonasera," he said, his voice low and gravelly. I looked up into his eyes and before I could stop myself, I pulled him close and put my face in his shoulder. He seemed surprised, but quickly wrapped his arms around me, returning the hug. For that moment, hugging a complete stranger felt so right. Then, with a last long look, he quietly turned around and walked into the night.

I remember waiting outside, like an infatuated young woman would, hoping he'd come back. But he didn't, and after a moment I went up to my apartment and threw myself on my bed.

I had always wondered how one man could have had such a serious affect on me. And even though he's no longer the twenty-four year old Marine that changed my life all those years ago, to this day, he still affects me in much the same way. And to be honest, I don't mind it at all.

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**_This was just a little idea I had for how they could have met (although its pretty darn unlikely). Okay, just to make sense of this timeline, the incident in Beruit happened in October of '83, so this is 2 years after that. Mac was still in the Marines, though I'm not sure he'd still be a Lieutenant...he was a Major when he left (oak leafs). In this story, Stella's 18, Mac is 24, which would make them 42 and 48 now. _**

**_If you dont know, the Mahoney, Tackleberry, and Lassard come from the movie Police Academy...gotta love it..._**

**_Review if you want._**

**_ -moviefanatic17_**


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